


do you ever stop and think about me?

by ameliaships



Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: F/F, Lots of it, Yearning, a lil background keefitz but not that much, aNGSTSTSTSTSTST, also, i swore ONCE, it's mentioned like twice-, sophiana!!!, sophie being very gay and biana being very....rich?, this is based on dorothea heheheh i am obsessed with that song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28680927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameliaships/pseuds/ameliaships
Summary: Sophie reflects on her relationship with Biana.(or: sophie is very gay for biana and thinks about it. a lot.)
Relationships: Sophie Foster/Biana Vacker
Comments: 20
Kudos: 20





	do you ever stop and think about me?

Sophie turned on her tv as soon as she got home from her job, as usual. 

Her heart skipped when she saw what was on. She didn’t know why she had expected something else.

She’d seen all the magazines at work today. Everyone in her (admittedly small) friend group had talked only of it at lunch; in hushed tones, of course. No one talked to her about it. No, they must’ve assumed she was too fragile for conversations about her ex. 

Her rich, charity making, dream selling ex. 

_I can handle it. It’s not like I'm still that crying schoolgirl._

Ignoring the shaking in her shoulders, she unmuted the tv. 

“...Biana Vacker, founder of the Moonlark charity. Kelly, don’t you think it’s incredible what she has accomplished? A project to help, house, and feed children in need! I am shocked she has come this far, being so young and all.”

A sharp stab of anger flared inside of Sophie, distracting her from the crushing feeling in her heart. _How dare they question her accomplishments? She’s done this_ **_all_ ** _on her own. She doesn’t deserve these people._

But, however much she disliked the way these hosts talked about Biana, she still wanted to see. She wanted to see _her._

“...And now we have the woman herself!” The stage audience claps, and Sophie freezes. 

She was as beautiful as ever. She wore a stunning dark purple dress that perfectly complimented her dark skin tone, and a yellow ribbon amongst her curly hair. 

Biana made her way onto the stage, and turned and smiled and waved at the camera, blowing a kiss, and a small wink. 

Sophie blushed.

“Miss Vacker, it is _such_ an honour to have you on the show today!”

“Thank you so much, the honour is mine!” She brushed a small part of hair that had escaped the ribbon behind her ear, but it just popped back out again. Biana giggled.

_She used to laugh like that with me._

Sophie didn’t realize how hard she had been squeezing the remote until Kelly started talking again. 

“So, Biana, we were just discussing how amazing it is that you’ve come so far in this industry, especially so young!”

“Oh, I didn’t do it alone! My incredible friends helped me so much, and I would love to thank them, particularly-” Sophie shut the tv off before she could hear any more. 

Hands shaking, she hurried upstairs to her bedroom.

She sat down on her bed, brushing her fingers across her faux fur pillows to calm herself down. 

_They’re right, i suppose._ She thinks of her friends. _I am too weak to talk about her._

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots her box.

The box.

_Their_ box.

Sophie took a few deep breaths, before walking across the room and grabbing the box. 

Once she was back seated on her bed, she gently ran her fingers over the top of the box. It was covered in peeling stickers, polaroids, and writing. 

In her scrawl, it read: “Sophie”, and in Biana’s beautiful script, “+ Biana’s memory box” with a little heart at the end. She carefully lifted the top off of the box.

Inside, there were photo booth strips, pressed flowers, Biana’s origami birds, and the letters.

_Oh._

The letters.

Not particularly thinking about the emotional damage it may cause, Sophie unfolded the first letter.

“My Dearest Sophie,” it read.

“We arrived at Mom’s cottage today! Fitz is utterly bored, but he knows nothing of the woodlands here! I found a bunch of mushrooms, and many types of moss on the trees!

I also found a truly beautiful clearing (or it would have been beautiful, if it were not full of dying chrysanthemums!) behind the cottage. Mom said that the people that lived here before were extremely fond of the chrysanthemums, but she had never really liked them herself.

I was obviously horrified, so I took to caring for them myself! It gave me great sorrow to cut this one, but I told myself it was for the greatest cause ever.”

Pinned below was a dried, pressed, red chrysanthemum. 

“Sophie, dear, I have been reading up on the language of flowers. Everyone says that roses are the flowers of love, and they are! but chrysanthemums are the only ones that mean ‘I love you’.

~ Biana.”

Sophie sat there, for a little while, in silence.

And then the tears came.

She shook, covering her mouth, as to make no sound.

It took her a few hours to calm down, but when she did, she made her way downstairs, and made herself some tea. 

_Spiced tea. Herbal tea. Biana liked-_

**_No._** _You will not do this to yourself, Sophie. focus._

Long story short: she did it to herself.

She soon found herself back upstairs, the contents of the box spread all over her bed.

She had met Biana at a football game she had been convinced to go to by her friend Keefe. (Though in all fairness, Keefe only went to watch Fitz play.)

Biana had been hiding under the bleachers, avoiding the players at all cost. 

“Hey, why are you down here?” Sophie had asked. (she had spotted Biana down there when she had gotten up to stretch her legs.) She kind of found it hard to start a conversation, though. Very pretty girl and all that. 

“Oh, you know.” Biana shivered, she was only wearing a dress, and it didn’t even have substantial sleeves. “Avoiding the boys. Apparently, they can’t take no for an answer.”

“Oh,” Sophie said. “I’m sorry. Um, do you want my jacket? Actually, no, that’s not a question. here, take my jacket.” When Biana opened her mouth to object, Sophie quickly said, “I have a hoodie underneath anyway. I guess Keefe overestimated how cold it would be.”

Biana laughed, and took the jacket gratefully. “Well, I suppose I underestimated, then. Thank you!, Uh, for the jacket. What’s your name? I’m Biana.”

_PrettygirlwantstoknowmynamePrettygirlwantstoknowmynamePrettygirlwantstoknowmyname-_ “I’m Sophie,” she managed to say.

“Well, Sophie, I have a feeling I’m going to be here awhile. And I don’t think Keefe and Fitz are going to be in a hurry soo…”

“...So?”

“You’ve been to our house before, haven’t you?”

Sophie shrugged. “Yeah, once or twice to help Keefe and Fitz make some posters. Why?”

Biana grinned. “Would you like to go and have some herbal tea with me?” She squints playfully at Sophie. “Or…are you more of a hot chocolate person? We have that too!” She got up from where she had been sitting on the ground. 

Sophie couldn’t help laughing at this girl’s energy. “Sure,”

Biana beamed. “...Maybe i could braid your hair as well? I know quite a few, and your hair is pretty long, so-”

“Uh, yeah! That’d be really cool!” Sophie smiled dorkily. 

“Well, what are we waiting for, then?”

Sophie sighed, her dramatic flashback coming to a close.

She slowly started to put the assorted letters and trinkets, finally coming back to the red chrysanthemum.

_It’s the only one that says ‘I love you’._

She stuffs it in messily with the rest, then shoves the box under her bed. 

A buzz from her phone startles her. _Oh, it’s just Keefe._

She quickly responds to him, and then exits back into her contacts. 

She scrolled down her text chains, down, down and down until-

_There._

She hadn’t even changed her contact name.

_Bia 💜_

Sophie opened the chat. 

Her fingers hovered over her keypad for several seconds.

She knew exactly what she wanted to say.

_Do you ever stop, and think about me?_

_Because I do. I think about you every fucking day. And it_ kills _me. It kills me, Bia._

A few minutes later, she closed the chat.

Later, she found herself strangely wishing there was a red chrysanthemum emoji.


End file.
